


A Life of Regret & the Dawn of Justice

by Morzan



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Gen, dragon age lore alteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morzan/pseuds/Morzan
Summary: Split between a few glimpses at the past and a few untold points in Anders life, the reasons for his passion to help the downtrodden and underprivileged is brought to light.





	A Life of Regret & the Dawn of Justice

**Author's Note:**

> The number of chapters is subject to change, depending on how much I manage to unravel these ideas.
> 
> There are no set days of when exactly chapters will be published so don't hold it against me if the next chapter takes slightly longer (not saying that it will)
> 
> As characters start appearing through the chapters, I will update the character list.  
> Some characters, as you will notice, are of my own creation. I regret nothing.
> 
> One final thing, italic posts take place in the past.

_Anders closed his eyes and inhaled slowly but deeply through a nose that had been broken more times than he cared to admit and respectively rearranged more times than he could count. A hint of autumn hung in the still, humid air, mingling with the aroma of wildflowers sprouting between the flagstones that marked the path. It was a good scent. Familiar, earthy. One he was determined never to relinquish again._

_The grand magister's boots made no sound as she approached. As ever, Eiliria Spellweaver smelled of the rose gardens native to none other but the third floor of that accursed tower. Anders would know that fragrance anywhere._

_For a long while the human stood in silence, relishing her company. The only sounds were the birds celebrating the sinking sun, and the soft bleating of goats grazing just beyond the short, barely useful wooden fence he'd helped his father build when he was a boy._

_He opened his eyes. From this small rise, the whole of his family's stead stretched out before him. The house where he'd lived most all his childhood. The barns that needed shoring up before winter. The wheat soon ready for harvest._

_Home._

_Anders loved this view. Even more than that, he was proud of it. Perhaps that is why he let the moment linger a while before he did his best to ruin it._

_"You shouldn't be here," he growled._

_"A fine thing to say to a magister" Eiliria answered, turning toward him. Despite the bemusement that flickered across her lips, there was a fair share of steeliness in her eyes that radiated authority. Dressed in dyed-green combination of robes and leather, wearing an ornate staff strapped to her back, she made him feel much like a fool in his time worn chore raggs._

_Anders simply shook his head. "You know far too well what I mean, Eiliria. There has been grumbling among the Circle mages ever since you promoted me to... what ever you call this . Your visits here are beginning to draw attention, and your oh-so-noble enchanters gossip like washwomen at a creek."_

_She pulled back her cerulean cowl to let her long crimson hair tumble free. "I never imagined you cared what others think of you." The woman's words dripped with a sweet syrup of feigned sympathy that brought his resolve to a boiling point._

_He clenched his jaw in frustration. It irked him that Eiliria had grown so accustomed to his gruffness that she could dismiss it as a matter of course. "Those rumorlovers may say what they wish about me. But you are one of their leaders and can ill afford to lose their respect."_

_Eiliria brushed a few stray strands of hair from Anders' eyes. "As magister, I have a duty to follow up on reports and keep an eye on all promising mages. And since you sequester yourself here in the wilds of Ferelden rather than serve in the Tower, I am obliged to check even on you from time to time."_

_He shrugged. "It's better that I stay away. I've no patience for the intrigue of that place. I can think here... breathe. Simple pleasures I find impossible in the shadow of that prison."_

_"Irving says you hide yourself away because you are intimidated by the mages" she said, arching a single eyebrow._

_"The First Enchanter is a fool! He's better suited to politics than the life of a mage. I'll match him bolt for bolt any day." Anders bit his tongue to stop himself from saying more. His irritation was amusing to her, and he refused to give her further satisfaction._

_"I am relieved to learn the reason for your isolation. I thought perhaps you had grown tired of my company." The setting sun illuminated the perfect symmetry of her features, her emerald eyes sparkling in the golden light. The effect was that perfectly timed that he swore it must be an illusion or a charm she kept at the ready to steer a conversation or distract a rival._

_It worked, of course. He was playing into her vanity before he could think otherwise._

_"It's not that I don't want you here, Eiliria. But your people need their magister close by. In these dark times more than ever."_

_The woman's brow furrowed. "Careful what you wish for. I am to meet with my sister Nymeria. She believes the demons have set their eyes upon the Circle Tower and mean to attack us. If her fears prove true, you may be called back whether you want to be there or not."_

_He touched her arm, drawing her closer. "Eiliria, you know I will do my duty and..."_

_Before he could say more, excited shouts rang out across the field. "Anders!" the boy called, startling the goats as he dashed toward the flock with arms dangling. When the child got within a dozen yards of the magister, his gaze fixed on the woman, and his mouth fell agape. He almost tumbled from the top of the wooden fence as he climbed over, coming to a stop a pace away from the two._

_"Magister Eiliria Spellweaver," Anders began, "I present my cousin, Sylar. He's only a boy of eight, but as you can clearly see, his lack of manners already rivals mine." Sylar blushed in response. Anders glared, lest he reveal a grin. He was fond of the boy, with hair and features so much like his own. Sylar was a constant reminder of what it was like to live in a world where everything was wondrous and new._

_"Don't be silly, Anders," Eiliria stated, kneeling down to the boy's height and flashing a warm smile. "I am certain he will grow up to be rather civilized, despite your influence."_

_"You... You're a mage? Like my cousin?" Sylar stuttered, his eyes growing wide._

_"No, lad. Eiliria is much more than that. She leads_ all _the mages in these lands," Anders said, clearly leaving the other magisters in Eiliria's shadow._

_Sylar's glance travelled from one to the other, his innocent mind racing to find something to say. The woman leaned in toward the child, whispering as if letting him in on a secret. "Do you wish to be a mage when you grow up?"_

_Anders' cousin shook his head with the vigor of youth. "I want to be a templar, with shining armor and a huge sword and a castle! I don't want to live locked away in that tower or swing a stick and shoot fire and lightning from afar." A look of panic struck him. "Not that mages aren't... I mean to say... I'd be proud to work for you, Magister!"_

_A chuckle escaped Eiliria's lips, melodic and addictive. Anders sighed through gritted teeth. "It's getting late, Sylar. You'd best head back home and stop pestering my magister.“ Before the boy could run off, Eiliria reached out and took hold of his hand._

_"Keep this," she said, pressing a gold coin into his palm, "until your cousin decides you are old enough to buy your first sword."_

_Sylar's grin shone bright enough to light the darkening fields. "Thank you!" He jumped up, skipped over the fence, and darted across the meadow, sending the goats to bleating as they scurried out of his way. "I will have my own sword!" he called out into the distance._

_"Well, now you've done it," Anders grumbled, rubbing his chin. "I'll never hear the end of that coin."_

_She observed Sylar until he disappeared over the hillside. "He just needs someone to believe in him," she said. "As we all do, every now and then." The tone of her voice made him curious as to what Eiliria had been like when she was Sylar's age._

_They stood quiet for a while as the last rays of sunlight faded away. The hum of insects replaced the birdsong before another word passed between the two._

_"When do you plan on leaving?" he asked at last._

_She granted him the faintest of smiles. "At first light, I believe. It is late, and you owe your magister a meal... and your company." She took a step forward, setting the direction towards the house. As she passed, her fingertips brushed against the back of his hand._

_He thought for a moment about the politics of the Circle, the disapproving sneer of First Enchanter Irving, and the shadow of approaching demonic forces. Part of him longed for a quiet life, one spent working the land as his father and grandfather had before him. He could step away from the mages and templars alike and live out his days here at the stead. At home. But that would require sacrificing something far more precious to him than his position as a member of the Circle._

_His feet began to follow the worn-out path to the house and the hearth that awaited inside, and he knew his choice was set. To hell with the politics. To hell with the world! He had made a promise to Eiliria, and nothing would keep him from her side, least of all demon filth._


End file.
